


no rest for the wicked

by badlywrittenbfu (ghoultown), ghoultown



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demon Shane Madej, Demonic Possession, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, M/M, Scared Shane Madej, Slow Burn, but he doesn't know yet, supportive boyfriend ryan bergara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/badlywrittenbfu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoultown/pseuds/ghoultown
Summary: Shane froze in the doorway, looking over his shoulder, toward the living room where Ryan was standing, staring back at him."What?" Ryan blinked, "What are you looking at?""Nothing," Shane said, though he continued to stare. "I thought I saw something.""Probably just..." Ryan held his arms out to his sides, "Me. Movin' around.""Yeah. Probably."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hiya!! time for more demon shane. but let's uhhhh switch it up and make it really awkward and have shane be frightened.
> 
> 19 more parts coming up, so subscribe to get some updates if you wish! can't wait to get this goin'.

Shane pulled himself up onto the padded table, the wax paper crinkling and the backs of his legs screaming at the cold metal they bumped against. The walls were white, save for the ring of dust around the vents on the ceiling, the floor tiles pale blue. He stared at the pile of his clothes in the chair in the corner.

"Your blood work came back. Everything seems to be normal," the man in green said, clicking his flashlight off and tucking it back into his pocket.

"That's good," Shane said quietly.

"Your MRI is still pending, so we'll get the results to you as soon as possible," the man stood, gathering his sheets of paper where he’d been scribbling absolutely nothing around the outside margin. "Are there any other symptoms you'd like to declare?"

"Um?" Shane said, tapping his fingers on his bare knees. The gown was loose and uncomfortable and it was distracting. "I keep seeing little black dots in the corner of my eyes."

"Okay." His pen clicked.

"I keep thinking there's a bug or something on my wall or something, but... y'know. Nothing's there."

"Okay." The faint noise of scratching on paper.

Shane shifted, wax shifting and mumbling along with him. The room was starting to ease up, the anxiety moving the walls back to where they belonged. Yet he still felt so... ill. And the nurse wasn’t exactly giving him anything to work with.

“And… uh. When I try to sleep, it feels like there’s something crawling on me. Like, more bugs, but there’s still... uh. Nothin'.”

“… Okay. I’ll notify the doctor.”

“Thanks,” Shane said. He looked at the bulletin board just over the man in green’s shoulder. A poster with a man running away from a group of shadows, labelled with ailments to boot, and above him in dark red, it read: _get well, be well, stay well._ He grimaced and looked back to his lap.

“Out the door, to the right,” the man turned the handle and stepped into the hall, “Stop by the lab on your way out to get another blood test. Then make an appointment at the desk.”

“Thanks,” Shane said. He glanced toward the mirror as the door clicked shut. He could have sworn he saw something move, ducking behind his back before he could get a good look.

 Slowly, he stood and moved to gather his clothes.


	2. Chapter 2

Shane sat in his car outside his apartment for a while. His skin was still tight under his clothes, that loud banging of the machine still rattling through his skull and the gentle shift of his body that had made ‘keeping calm’ a little difficult, no matter what the nurse said. He let his eyes flash up to his window that faced the lot and back down to the steering wheel a few times as if he could teleport his way up to the top floor and skip the… middle men (or, his brain later recalled, stairs).

Instead, he called Ryan.

“Hey,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt as he sunk back into the felt-like cover of the seat.

_“Hey!”_ Came Ryan’s voice through the phone. _“How’d it go?”_

“Went alright, I guess,” Shane looked out the rear view mirror, just missing the dark blur he thought he’d seen, “They didn’t tell me anything, really. Said I look normal.”

_“There’s always the possibility… that you are.”_

“Normal?” Shane scoffed, “No way.”

Ryan laughed. _“Well. Do you wanna do anything tonight, abnormal man?”_

“Hm,” Shane looked up at his apartment. “I don’t know. Do you?”

_“We haven’t done a movie night in a second.”_

“Alright,” Shane said, finally pushing his door open. “Your place or mine?”

_“I haven’t been to yours yet?”_

“Right… you haven’t, have you?” Shane closed the door with his hip. “It seems like we’ve…”

_“It does seem like it’s been forever.”_

_

_He’d met Ryan nearly three months ago in the office. Ryan was new and his desk partner had recently relocated, and Shane was immediately infatuated with him for reasons unknown. The way Ryan would hold his disposable coffee cup and the way he seemed to smile without pity at Shane’s lame attempts at jokes definitely didn’t help his complete emotional… ailment._

_Then, Sara asked for Shane to braid her hair. He borrowed a hair tie, promised its timely return, and disappeared into a different room. This one action opened two opportunities: to talk to Ryan now, and to talk to Ryan later to inevitably give it back._

_And he did. A week later. After chickening out several times._

_“Here’s your hair tie,” Shane said, extending the band toward Ryan, who smiled up from his computer, “From that one time I braided Sara’s hair. For some reason.”_

_“Right, thanks,” Ryan pushed it over his hand, turning his chair around to fully face the tall man, “How’s, uh. Sara doing, by the way?”_

_“Sara?” Shane looked over his shoulder as if he could see her desk from there. He couldn’t. “Oh, she’s good, I think.”_

_“That’s good,” Ryan said. Shane seemed confused, so he continued, “I heard she moved in, so I just wanted to check in with you. See how that’s going.”_

_“Oh, yeah,” he let his hands fall into his pockets, “Yeah, her new apartment’s pretty nice, I hear.”_

_“You hear?” Ryan stopped the steady sway of the chair, his feet planted on the ground. “You don’t live there?”_

_“Wh – no,” Shane scoffed, though the smile fell quickly, “I have my own place. Sara’s just a… just a friend – “_

_“Right, sorry! I just assumed – that you two – “_

_“Yeah, we don’t – “_

_“- lived together,” Ryan said with a sigh which he successfully turned into a chuckle._

_Shane also laughed, completely nervous and not hiding it at all, “Oh, ha. Ha. No. No, no.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “None of that, uh. Business.”_

_Ryan nodded, “Good to know.”_

_“Good to know,” Shane repeated, making Ryan tilt his head in misunderstanding, which made Shane panic. “Anyway! Gotta go. Do stuff.”_

_“Right,” Ryan said. “Well, I’ll see you around?”_

_“Of course.”_

-

“So, movie tonight?” Shane said, pinning his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he unlocked his door. “Like, here?”

_“I’m… yeah. I’d love that.”_

“Cool,” Shane nodded, pushing the door in with maximum effort. It always got stuck. “I’ll see you… eight?”

_“Sounds like a plan. See you.”_

Shane heard the click and flopped onto the couch, his face in the pillow, trying to convince himself that his face wasn’t hot and his lips weren’t splitting at the ends from the stupid grin he _wasn’t_ sporting.


	3. Chapter 3

_Something is very wrong here._

Shane was on his stomach, his cheek against the pillow, and he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about it. He could feel it again, crawling up the inside of his ankle, along the bridge of his calf. He doesn’t bother looking, because it’s not there. Not anywhere he can see. And he knows that he should ignore it, mind over matter, and go to sleep – he’s got work in the morning, anyway – but he can feel little… legs. Something. Like a bug, moving up the outside of his thigh and up his stomach and under his arm.

He flipped over onto his back and brushed his hands everywhere, nearly hysterical. It had been nearly a full 24 hours since he’d slept, and it had shortened his fuse a few feet. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to call Ryan so badly, have some company to fall asleep to (because somehow, Ryan calmed him down), but it was nearly four in the morning and Ryan was most definitely asleep and would not appreciate him calling at this hour.

Shane turned onto his side and hugged a pillow to his chest. It crawled up his neck. He swatted at his skin – nothing. He turned to his other side, covering his head with the pillow. It grew close to his ear.

Shane gave up. He tossed his pillow against the wall and rolled over to the end of the bed, planting his feet on the carpet and stumbling toward the bathroom. He tried his best. He didn’t pay attention to the directions in which he threw his clothes, covering his eyes with his hand as he blinded himself with the overhead light.

“Fuck,” he said shortly.

He stood under the hot water until it turned lukewarm, and until the lukewarm water turned to frozen water, freezing the memory of movement just under his skin and pushing it down the drain. It worked. The creatures never seemed to follow him out of the bed. It was cruel.

He sat on his couch, watching the local news and scratching at the inside of his leg, until it was time to leave. Or, more importantly, time to face Ryan.

Shane got an Uber, not confident in his driving skills and alertness, stumbling up the stairs and swinging open the door, trying to prepare himself for whatever Ryan was going to say about his appearance or his hair or his –

“Woah,” Ryan bumped into Shane’s chest, “You okay, Shane?"  
“What, yeah, sorry, I – “ Shane began, rubbing his eyes, trying to figure out how to solve this.

“You look great.”

Shane let his hands fall. Ryan was looking up at him with an odd look on his face. “What?”

“You just… did you get your hair done? Or… is there some makeup video you were called on to participate in? You’re… _glowing_ , Shane. Really.”

Shane blinked, “Oh. Thanks.”

Ryan squinted and leaned closer. Shane just looked down at him, confused and a little alarmed. “Your eyes, too.”

“Did I… do my eyes look like I put make up on them?” Shane scoffed.

“No, they just… look a little darker than usual, I guess.”

Shane winked. Ryan pushed his chest and walked around him to go into the kitchen. Shane just looked after him before ducking into the bathroom and shuffling over to the mirror. 

He leaned closer to the mirror, holding his eyes open with his fingers. They did look darker. Even his scleras were greyed.

He washed his hands. At least Ryan thought he looked good.


	4. Chapter 4

Shane fell asleep as soon as he got to his apartment, dropping onto the couch face first and not remembering what it felt like to hit his head against the hard arm of the sofa.

There was a moment with a complete lack of memory, what felt like five hours of dark, complete sleep with no disturbances or crawling or tossing or turning. But then the picture came in, high definition, through the dark – it was him, standing in a doorway that was connected to nothing, surrounded in shadow yet completely illuminated.

Then he was running forward, through the dark but in a perfectly straight line, shadows even darker than the black he was drowning in, curling over and cresting like waves, tarred arms reaching out from the wave and grabbing at his arms and legs, ripping his clothes with their claws and breaking skin. One grabs for his head and pulls it off.

Shane was sitting up on his actual couch, actually awake before he could see what came out of his neck. He gasped for his breath, rubbing his hand over his face and wincing at the sweat. He wiped his palm on the couch cushion.

One thought was then present in the front of his head, throbbing behind his eyes: Call Ryan.

Shane grasped his phone with a shaky hand, unable to function, his heart beating so hard he could see his shirt move. And he dialed Ryan. He had to, this time.  
“Hey,” he said. His voice was distant and down in his throat and he coughed to bring it back.

_“Hey, Shane – you okay?”_

“I had a bit of a nightmare. Thought I’d check in.” Shane wobbled to his feet, knocking his knee into the coffee table and hissing at the pain.

_“Oh… well, thank you. That’s sweet. Was I in it?”_

“No, but it felt kinda omen-like. Challenging my… I don’t know. Legacy?” Shane walked over to the nearest mirror and stared into it. He looked plastic. “But yeah, I don’t have much else to lose except for you.”

_“Shane, that’s really cute.”_

“Eh,” Shane said, closing his eyes. He was still so tired. “Maybe.”

_“Are you really okay, though? You sound a little shaken.”_

“I am a little shaken,” Shane admitted with a laugh. “But no worries. I’ll get some Nyquil tomorrow and I’ll try to get my sleep schedule back on track. Sorry for waking you.”

 _“It’s only eleven, Shane,”_ Ryan’s voice was hesitant. _“Do you want…”_

Shane waited.

_“Nevermind, that’s – “_

“No, no, what were you gonna say?”

_“Oh. I was gonna invite myself over, like a douche.”_

“Well, joke’s on you,” Shane said, walking to the door and slipping his shoes on. “I’m inviting _myself_ over to your place.”

Ryan laughed, _“Alright, Shane. I’ll unlock the door for you.”_

“Thank you, Ryan.”

Shane slept like a baby, falling asleep two feet away from his… boyfriend, now, he figured. He could remember Ryan’s face when he turned up at the door, so happy yet concerned, and the hug that Ryan gave him when Shane told him what he dreamed about (so warm, so sincere), and the movie that Ryan put on (no, the way the light bounced off of Ryan’s nose and cheeks), and then he remembered Ryan telling him to “lay down before I make you lay down” and then Ryan putting on some nature documentary to help him go to sleep. And it did.

When he opened his eyes and regained feeling in his limbs, he could feel Ryan’s hand warm in his and Ryan’s cheek warm on his shoulder through his t-shirt.

“Hey,” Ryan said quietly, feeling Shane’s fingers test out how it felt. “Good morning.”

“Music to my ears,” Shane said, though he wasn’t sure why. He squeezed his hand and pressed his cheek to the top of Ryan’s head. He sighed. “Good morning, Ryan.”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Wonderful,” Shane sighed. He looked around, mapping out Ryan’s bedroom because he hadn’t paid much attention before. It felt comfortable. “Hey, Ryan?”

“Yeah?” Ryan looked up at him.

“I gotta say,” Shane lifted his and Ryan’s hands, putting his arm around the back of Ryan’s head, “I like being with you.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, his smile falling just slightly, “I like being with you too.”

“That’s good.” Shane closed his eyes. The black dot on the door wasn’t there last night. “We should do this more often.”

“Yeah, let’s.” Ryan turned back to look at the ceiling. “That would be really nice.”

“Great,” Shane said, his throat dry. “Can I come home with you after work?”

“Absolutely.”


	5. Chapter 5

Shane sat up in bed, fully awake and completely unsure if he had been sleeping or not. He could remember laying down at three am, blinking, and then it was light outside. There was a faint throb on the surface of his skin as he reached to turn the knob on the lamp at his bedside. He looked down at his arms and squinted at the bright red scratches that were there. He nearly began to come up with reasonable rationalizations for how in the world those could have appeared, but then his gaze found the cat perched on the end of his bed, staring at him with green eyes.

“Cat,” Shane said, eyes wide and confused. “ _That’s_ a cat.”

She was a complete shadow, fully black as black could be, looking at him curiously from the bedpost. If he’d felt at least slightly rested, he would react more enthusiastically. His brain was completely fragmented.

“Cat.” Shane moved cautiously, every single centimeter he shifted, his skin would pull tight and shoot hot pain up his forearms. “Where’d _you_ come from?”

She stared. For she was a cat. And could not speak.

“Okay,” Shane threw his legs to the side, deciding she wouldn’t attack. And she didn’t. Shane rubbed his eyes – he didn’t need this, not today. “Good kitty.”

Shane got dressed, keeping his eyes continuously on the shadow that kept her eyes on him. He rolled his sleeves down over his injuries after dousing them in hydrogen peroxide, not wanting to have to explain.

It was a miracle he got to work. Between the cat miraculously appearing in his back seat while he was going 70 miles per hour on a main road – then swerving onto the perforated section and checking the back seat again to find the cat gone – and swatting away the dots in his periphery, he was completely mentally incapable of driving _or_ working. Yet he planned to, and unfortunately, did both.

“Hey,” Ryan said as Shane fell into his chair. He turned his attention away from the computer in front of him and raised an eyebrow, “How are you?”

“Great,” Shane said, though he hardly managed a smile.

“Are you… sure?” Ryan reached up to attempt to smooth down Shane’s wild hair. “You look like you got attacked by a wild animal.”

“Kind of,” Shane said.

“…” Ryan stared at him.

“Don’t… don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t think I can… _not_ worry about it, Shane, I care about you,” Ryan stood, reaching down to pull Shane up. His fingers grasped Shane’s arm. Shane hissed and pulled away, cradling his arm to his stomach. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No worries.” Shane went to stand but wobbled on his feet. He sighed, the hair on his forehead fluttering up toward the sky. He looked down at Ryan, eyes tinted with defeat, “I think something’s wrong.”

Ryan smiled for a moment, thinking it was a joke, but as Shane held a hand out to prop himself up on the back of his desk chair, his face fell. “Oh.”

“Eh,” Shane said after a moment, the light returning, just behind his eyes, pulling his skin tight again. “Maybe I’m just overreacting.”

Ryan watched him turn on his heel and walk toward the kitchenette. He felt his heart tighten as he lowered himself into his chair. _Maybe he is_ , he thought. _He’ll be fine._


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey,” Ryan rolled his chair over from across the room, crashing into Shane and immediately apologizing. He held his arms out to steady himself, gently grasping Shane’s upper arm. “Oh my God, I’m _so_ sorry.”

“No worries,” Shane looked over at him, his eyes ringed with red. “What’s up?”

“Just saying hi,” Ryan winced, shaking his head, “That was a little gross.”

“Maybe, but it was a good kinda gross,” Shane reached up and turned off his computer. He turned to Ryan, “Do you wanna get lunch?”

“I’d love to,” Ryan said, surprised. “…Why?”

“I don’t know,” Shane shrugged, though he winced and pawed at his ear with his hand. “Just wanna get out of here. I think staying completely still today is driving me crazy.”

“Me too,” Ryan said. He moved his hand down to settle over Shane’s. “Did you sleep last night?”

“Um?” Shane said, pretending to think, “No.”

“Shane,” Ryan frowned. “You have to _try._ ”

“What?” Shane stood, knocking Ryan’s hand off in the process and grabbing his jacket. “Of course I tried. I listened to podcasts, to ocean sounds, to… uh, your old episodes.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Shane rolled his eyes. “Nothing worked. So, I just… stayed up.”

“Again,” Ryan continued for him.

“Yes. Again.”

Ryan stood, gathering his stuff from the desk and looking up at Shane, “You should go see a specialist, or something.”

Shane stared, “A specialist?”

“Sleep specialist,” he elaborated. Shane sighed and grabbed Ryan’s hand, walking to the door. “Shane, seriously, I think it’d help.”

“I’ve been,” Shane said. “I’ve been to every doctor I could afford, Ryan, they all say nothing’s wrong with me.”

“It’s not physical, it’s _mental_ –” Ryan skipped a bit to catch up with Shane, who was striding to the elevator. “Shane, my legs aren’t as long as yours!”

“I know,” Shane chuckled, low in his throat, pushing the button. Ryan caught up with him, placing his hand on the small of Shane’s back. The tall man looked down at him.

“Please,” Ryan said. “You look tired.”

“I am.” Shane stepped out of Ryan’s reach and reclaimed his hand. “But it’s okay.”

Ryan wanted to dispute. But it was much too early in the relationship for an argument about this, and Shane looked so exhausted and lost. So, Ryan just intertwined their fingers and stepped onto the elevator with Shane in tow.


	7. Chapter 7

“Can I stay over?” Ryan asked, watching Shane’s eyelids grow heavy, dropping closed before shooting open again.

“Of course you can, Ryan,” Shane said. He slowed his typing for a moment, almost asking why, but sent an exhausted smile. As if he knew precisely why.

Every now and then, he’d find Shane somewhere – at the coffee maker, leaning against a wall in the lounge area, in the line for food – with his eyes closed. He’d be standing upright, swaying slowly or completely still, seeming to take a break. From being awake.

Ryan would always try to appear before he completely fell over, placing his hand on the bottom of his back, asking him gently if he wanted to go home and lay down.

“No,” he’d say, letting his eyes flutter open, “I’m okay, thank you.”

“You’re not,” Ryan would say, wrapping his arm all the way around, giving him somewhat of a hug, “But okay. You can rest when we get home.”

Ryan was sure he would wait, sure he could hold his protective instincts back until he got to Shane’s place, but every time Shane’s head would drop toward the keyboard, he got more antsy.

“Alright,” Ryan said, finally, after what felt like 12 hours. “Shane, I’m taking you home.”

“I’m too tired to argue,” Shane mumbled, standing up and grasping Ryan’s hand as he nearly tumbled over. “Take me home, please, you sexy man.”

Ryan blinked, a surprised laugh spilling from his lips as he looked up at Shane, “What?”

“Sorry,” Shane said, patting Ryan’s head. “My brain’s not working.”

“I forgive you,” Ryan said, laughing into his free hand as he pushed Shane toward the exit. “You need to sleep for a few days to shed off that sleep debt you’ve gathered.”

“Sleep debt?” Shane said, stumbling over his own legs. “I barely _know_ debt.”

“Shane, please stop talking.”

“Yeah that’s probably for the best. “

-

Ryan was on the phone with the manager for a while, outlining the fact that Shane was not only sick, but so sleep deprived that he couldn’t do work properly. The voice in the phone had urged Ryan to try to get him into work the next day, that the quarter was nearly over and Shane had a quota, and Ryan reluctantly agreed. By the time he hung up the phone, Shane was stumbling into the den, his t-shirt clinging to his body and his boxers lopsided on his hips.

“Hey,” Ryan smiled, but his eyes drifted to Shane’s arms. He stepped forward and gently held Shane’s right forearm in his hands, like it was something ancient and delicate. “What the hell happened in there?”

“Oh, these?” Shane looked at them with glassy eyes, “Uh, those are from the cat.”

“…The cat?” Ryan glanced around, behind Shane, toward the bedroom where Shane had been, “What cat?”

“There was just a fuckin… _cat_ ,” Shane rubbed his eyes, absolutely exhausted and unsure of his own head. “She scratched the fuck out of me while I slept a few days ago. But, even then, it didn’t… _feel_ like sleep. You know? Like, I blinked, and it was light outside, and my arms hurt like hell.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ryan placed his hand on Shane’s cheek and Shane leaned into it. The both of them stilled at the use of the name – it was new, but _good_ new. “Why don’t you lay down and rest?”

“Okay,” Shane nodded. “And you’re… gonna stay, for awhile?”

“Yeah, of course,” Ryan said, his voice warm. “Go lay down. If you’re lucky, I’ll even come in and _lay with you_.”

“Holy shit,” Shane said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Ryan just broke into giggles and waved him away.

Shane wobbled toward the bedroom, suddenly entirely confident that he could sleep _finally_ , now that Ryan was there like a good luck charm.

He looked once more at Ryan – _he looks so beautiful_ , he thought as he turned back to jump on the bed. So beautiful, the way he smiled and waved at him, the way he didn’t even seem to _notice_ the dark figure behind him –

Shane froze in the doorway, looking over his shoulder, toward the living room where Ryan was standing, staring back at him.

He searched around Ryan from his place in his bedroom, his tired mind growing frantic: _no, no, please don’t get Ryan too, please leave Ryan alone, he’s all I’ve got, I need him –_

"What?" Ryan blinked, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Shane said, though he continued to stare. "I thought I saw something."

"Probably just..." Ryan held his arms out to his sides, "Me. Movin' around."

"Yeah. Probably."

 -

Ryan found Shane an hour later, pinned to his bed by nothing, asleep while his eyes moved frantically behind his eyelids and his body desperately tried to _move_ , to _get out of here._

“Shane?” He whispered, sinking onto the mattress beside him. He brushed Shane’s hair from his forehead, grimacing at how damp his skin was, “Shane, hey.”

Ryan couldn’t seem to wake Shane up (he tried to tell himself that was a good thing), and found himself wrapped around Shane as best he could, holding him tightly until he stilled. Which had to have been _hours._

He couldn’t wait anymore. Shane needed to see someone. Shane was in _pain_ , and Ryan certainly couldn’t do anything about it, which was torture.

Something was seriously wrong. They had to do _something._


	8. Chapter 8

Ryan was sitting next to Shane in the sterile room, his hand lodged in Shane’s, as Shane’s mouth screwed his mouth into a sour frown.

“ _Therapy._ ” He stared at his doctor, eyes ringed in red and darker than before. He’d thought for sure they would have found something this time. He had physical evidence that there was something wrong – his eyes looked like they were bruised to hell – but the doctor had still said he was fine. HOW? “You want me to go to _therapy._ ”

“Shane – “ Ryan tried.

“The symptoms you’ve listed are consistent with several mental illnesses, including insomnia. We can diagnose that, if you’d like, by doing tests on your sleep patterns – “

“More tests that prove nothing,” Shane nodded.

“ – but a consistent therapist can assist with coping skills to combat any sleeping disorders or internal struggles you may be facing – “

“I’m going to bankrupt myself with useless doctor’s appointments,” Shane whispered to Ryan, who glared at him.

“ – that is all I can offer you. I will set up an appointment with a highly recommended therapist.”

“Thank you,” Ryan said, on the pouting Shane’s behalf. “That would be great.”

Ryan led Shane out the door, patting his back and holding his hand, telling him that If You Really Don’t Like Therapy, You Don’t Have To Go.

Shane just looked at him over the roof of the car and said, “Nothing’s going to help me with this, Ryan.”

Ryan stopped at the seriousness of it. At Shane’s blank desperation, his tired eyes begging Ryan for something he couldn’t explain.

“ _I’ll_ help you with it,” he said.

-

Shane was hearing whispers.

He’d heard them when he was in the doctor’s office, when he was being lead to the car, when he was sitting across from Ryan at a restaurant, when he begged Ryan to stay the night again.

He couldn’t tell Ryan anything, yet. If he told Ryan, Ryan would _definitely_ call him crazy and leave.

He couldn’t handle that.


	9. Chapter 9

“Would you be comfortable talking about your dreams?”

Shane was not comfortable with _anything_.

Ryan was outside after their quick check up – he answered all the questions the man in the chair asked: _do you think Shane will benefit from this? Can you tell me a little bit about why he’s here? Oh, so he doesn’t sleep. Hm. And how does that make you feel?_

Consumed by irritability (no doubt brought on by an extreme lack of sleep), Shane sat with his arms crossed over his chest like a teenager in a school meeting after he’d been caught spray painting the gym floors on a Sunday. Which is something he definitely hadn’t done.

“Not really,” he said, finally, after thinking for a moment. The corners of his vision were blurry as he tried to control his rapid thoughts. He could hear the voice in the back of his head, bouncing off his skull, telling him not to. That no good could come from this. He figured that was right. “Not much to say.”

“Well, you don’t sleep,” the man said. Shane realized he hadn’t listened when he’d said his name. “Are your dreams the cause of this?”

“I don’t know,” Shane said.

“Any dreams that you think about out of your room?”

_\- he was running forward, through the dark but in a perfectly straight line, shadows even darker than the black he was drowning in, curling over and cresting like waves –_

“Nah.”

_\- tarred arms reaching out from the wave and grabbing at his arms and legs, ripping his clothes with their claws and breaking skin. then one grabs for his head and pulls it off –_

“Are you sure?” The man leaned closer, “This is a confidential space. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to, but rest assured, nothing you say will leave this room.”

Shane nodded. “Well…”

The man sat back in his chair. Satisfied with his work.

“There’s… running,” he decided to say. “I’m running, and it’s dark.”

“Hm,” he hummed, hand in front of his mouth as if he was making a discovery. “Anything else?”

 _No._ “Nope.”

There was a distinct shadow over the man’s shoulder that wasn’t there moments earlier, and Shane averted his eyes to stare at the carpet.

“Those symbols are a clear sign of an internal struggle,” the man said. Quite vaguely.

“Everything’s going great in my life,” Shane said. Which was wrong. Nothing could have been going worse. “What internal struggle could I possibly be having?”

“Clearly you’re afraid of death.”

“… _Right_.”

-

“I don’t want to go back there,” Shane said. His voice was deep. Clinical and unfamiliar. It made Ryan pause in the hallway.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “So… Do you want to go to a different one?”

“No,” Shane said.

“Okay.” Ryan didn’t want to try and convince Shane otherwise for some reason. 


	10. Chapter 10

Shane was at work when it hit: harsh and loud behind his eyes and in his jaw, the pain of his body rejecting something and trying to _get it out_.

He grasped the edge of his desk, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to regulate his breathing. Ryan had his headphones on. Shane had a moment to think, actually think through the pain and noise, and he wondered if he should ask Ryan to help.

 _No,_ something said.

So he didn’t.

He slowly stood from his seat, pushed his chair out, his mind chanting _home, home, home_ while something else whispered, _go, go, go._ He waved to the people at the door and walked out to his car. He could feel the rumbling throb from his head all the way to the soles of his feet.

His ability to think ended there. Then he was just blankly watching his hands open car doors, turn steering wheels. He felt himself blink, felt his palms sweat. Everything was in segments. He was on the road one second, then walking up the stairs to his apartment. Every step shot white-hot agony up his spine to his head, yet he couldn’t move any faster than the pace his feet had set.

Shane pushed the door in. He could feel his phone vibrate against his leg, definitely Ryan, but his hands were completely immovable by his sides. He walked, out of control, toward the couch, toward somewhere to lay down, but he got caught up in front of the mirror before he could reach it.

He was frozen. He blinked once, twice, the one thing he could manage to do.

His eyes. _Completely_ black.

His legs buckled and he hit the ground, too exhausted to stay conscious long enough to feel the impact of the fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh boy
> 
> here we go


	11. Chapter 11

Shane was on the floor when he woke up.

He’d passed out like that before – had a few too many drinks, had those nights where he just couldn’t bring himself to get up and limp to the bedroom – and the only thing that he could think about was the stark lack of pain in his body that usually accompanied sleepless nights on the floor. He seemed fine, for once. He pushed himself onto his back, his cheek humming with static from being pressed against the carpet for hours, taking a moment to stare at the ceiling.

He remembered the nightmare he’d had. It was one of black-scribbled eyes and searing pain, so ill-defined in recollection but so real when he was living in it. Then again, every other dream he’d had recently had been the same.

Eventually, he sat up when he gathered himself together, bracing himself on one knee to push himself to stand. He wobbled, a vague headache present though not unbearable, and turned to look in the mirror. To assess the damage, to check how much of the carpet print had transferred to his cheek, to verify that his eyes were normal again.

Someone else stared back at him. His face, his disgusted expression, though the persistent eyes remained. A thick film of vibrant black obscured anything familiar in them.

 _Do you see us?_ someone said, distant as if it had been whispered in a cave.

Shane shed his clothes in a trail toward the bathroom. He stood in front of the sink, tossing water into his eyes. He turned the shower on and stepped in before the heat could catch up, trying to wake himself up because this was another part of the dream.

_Us._

Shane held his eyelids open with his fingers under the spray, desperate for anything that could possibly solve this as if the eyes were his only problem. If only.

As he finally gave up, he relaxed against the shower wall. He grimaced at the ache that shot down his spine, rubbing his stinging eyes. He forgot the lead count in Los Angeles tap water, how many parts parts-per-billion. It didn’t really matter. He stared, defeated, at his feet. A few feathers settled by his feet, clumped and matted, twitching as stray water pelted them. He grimaced and looked away. Clearly, they were just another piece of this elaborate hallucination, as was everything else around him. _Except for Ryan_ , he thought fondly for a moment.

 _Ryan,_ said the something in his head. Panic punched a hole through his lungs. _Right_.

He dried himself off, hasty, and stumbled to his discarded jeans. He nearly fell forwards, his upper body suddenly quite heavy. A feather, scalding hot, brushed down his arm. He ignored it. His fingers dipped into his pocket for his phone. He had to text Ryan -

the voice was loud, _Text Ryan. Call Ryan. Where’s Ryan? Poor Ryan._

\- but his urgency was cut short when his eyes strayed upwards toward the mirror.

_There we are. Do you see us?_

Wings, dark and crooked, were arching over his head as if they were sheltering him. Curved and awkward yet sleek. The heartbeat he’d gotten used to for thirty some years went silent. His skin ran cold. He let his fingers fall slack, the jeans landing with a thud beside his feet. Shaky fingertips reached overhead to touch them but instead, they felt his face. It looked like him. But emptier.

Shane almost didn’t hear the frantic rattling of the doorknob over the laughter in his head. He turned his wide-eyed attention away from himself, _but that can’t be me_ , to the door as it opened.

“Shane?” A familiar voice. 

 _But it is you,_ the something said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh!!!
> 
> sorry this took so long. i'm in a bit of a block. hopefully this will help me escape :')


	12. Chapter 12

Shane pushed his feet to move away from the light -

… from Ryan who stood there, one coffee in his hand and the other emptier cup tucked in his arm, his right hand occupied with the spare key Shane had given him…

\- to sink behind the couch before Ryan could see ‘him,’ or whatever he’d become. Which, of course, Ryan clearly already  _ had  _ seen. It was a sight that was difficult to miss. Shane grasped the back of the couch, his hands dull and nearly grey. Everything was so quiet without the blood rushing through him. Shane could tell that the traitor wings were reaching upward from his hiding place, revealing his position. But he couldn’t control them because they weren’t his,  _ yes they are. _

“Shane?” Ryan was still by the doorway, the air so thick that his voice struggled across the room, a whisper by the time it reached Shane’s ears. 

“Don’t be scared,” Shane’s voice was unfamiliar to hear, wet and afraid. He held a hand up, felt it shaking, much lighter due to the lack of blood inside. He missed the buzzing noise of life that used to wrap around his bones. It was all gone, now. He was empty, his brain floating between his eyes all that was left. “It’s me, I think. Please… don’t go, I…”

He heard the thwap of an empty paper cup on linoleum. The clank-cling of a hastily discarded key being tossed onto a counter and sliding down to the tiles below. The soft crunch of well-kempt sneakers on starch-stiff carpet.

“It’s okay.” Warm fingers grasped his cold ones. “I know it’s you.”

Shane was truly terrified. He wasn’t sure where his hallucinations ended - if he peeked over the couch, would Ryan still be there? Or would it be the creature from his reflection, smirking and pulling on his hand until the flesh and bone snapped apart?

_ Ryan,  _ said the something between his ears.

Shane opened an eye. He slowly lifted his head from where it rested between his knees. 

“Were you just going to hide from me for the rest of your life, or what?” The smile that was stretched across his mouth was genuine and sad, but it was Ryan. “What was the plan from there?”

“I don’t know?” Shane pushed himself onto his knees. He felt something touch the wing that had taken root in his right shoulder blade, heard the thud of a book hit the floor behind him. He felt a few warm tears on his cheeks. Ryan wiped them away. “I don’t know what happens, now.”

“I think, first, you need this.” A cold iced coffee in his hand. Shane murmured gratefully, soothed yet still wired. “And second, I need to know if you’re murderous.”

“Murderous?” Shane parrotted, hooking his bare arms over the back of the couch to keep himself balanced as he took a sip. He’d forgotten he was naked, his jeans still crumpled a yard away. Ryan didn’t seem to care. 

“Do you want to kill me?”

“What?!” Shane blinked a few times, nearly falling backwards. “No! Of course not.”

“That’s good,” Ryan nodded, looking over Shane’s shoulder. Probably to the wings that rested there. “And… is there, like, a voice that seems to want you to kill me?”

“Uh,” Shane shook his head. He wondered if there was a manual for this. “there is a… something, but it seems to like you.”

“Even better.” Ryan shifted on the couch, brushing Shane’s damp hair back from his forehead. “Then, there’s only one thing left to do.”

“What’s that?” Shane asked, unsure as to why Ryan seemed to be such a coolheaded expert. 

“You have to admit to me that the supernatural exists.”

“Oh,” Shane deflated. He peered up through his eyelashes, eyes pitch black yet so emotive, “I guess it does, doesn’t it?”

“I’m a little disappointed in myself that I didn’t notice the symptoms of a demonic possession before,” Ryan sighed, his head on his hand. “Not that I could have stopped it or anything, but… at least you wouldn’t have had to go through this alone.”

“I’m not going through it alone,” Shane raised his cup. Ryan smiled somberly. He let his hand fall back down rest his wrist on the cushions. “Why aren’t you freaking out, Ryan?”

“Because it makes sense?” 

“Does it?”

“It was either that you were ignoring me or that something terrible and catastrophic was happening.” Ryan thought for a moment before adding, “And I don’t think you’d ignore me.”

Shane was welcoming the distraction from the nightmare he was living. Ryan handed him a blanket to wrap around his lower half. “You brought coffee when you assumed that there was a catastrophe happening?”

Ryan shrugged, “I don’t know, Shane. I can’t say I was assured that I would find you, demon-possessed and naked, in the middle of your living room. But I did. And I’m glad I got coffee.”

“Me too,” Shane nodded. He watched Ryan’s eyes scan over his face. “Is it bad?”

“No. Just different.”

“Am I stuck like this, then?” Shane asked, trying not to sound too dull. 

Ryan pressed his fingertips to the skin under Shane’s jaw. “You don’t have a pulse. I’d say it’s pretty permanent.” Ryan patted the left wing. Shane hated how he could feel it. “But you can figure out how to control these, probably.”

Shane nodded. “I hope so.”

“I’ll help you,” Ryan said. His thumb drew circles on the bottom of Shane’s jaw. “You’re not alone.”

“I know,” Shane mumbled. “What about work?”

“Don’t worry about work, right now. We have other things to think about.”

_ We, we, we have other things to think about. _

“Okay,” Shane smiled, his lips chapped and his eyes dazed but entirely genuine. 


End file.
